


Save a Horse

by baku_midnight



Category: Supernatural RPF
Genre: Exaggeration, M/M, basically pointless smut, bottom!misha, senseless objectification of Jensen's arms, top!Jensen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-08-24
Updated: 2014-08-24
Packaged: 2018-02-14 13:25:05
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,257
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2193429
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/baku_midnight/pseuds/baku_midnight
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Shameless objectification of Jensen’s arms and shoulders. Misha...appreciates Jensen's new physique.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Save a Horse

They’re making out in Misha’s foyer, giddy like children breaking curfew as they get acquainted with each other again, after months apart. Three months seems like a lifetime, the hectic end to a hectic season has Misha and Jensen’s blood pumping a little hotter than usual, to match the scalding summer weather outside, as they explore each other head to toe.

 

Misha hefts his legs up onto the bench and Jensen grabs them automatically into his lap, not breaking from Misha’s mouth as they continue to tongue-fuck, lips slick and messy, saliva dripping down chins and palms fiery hot. There’s no rush, however: the compulsion to get as much love in the shortest time possible has dissipated with time, they’ve got the house to themselves and they both know they will still love each other when they part.

 

“Missed you,” Misha says quietly in a moment of separation; Jensen grunts his agreement. He’s supporting Misha’s waist with one hand and moving the other towards Misha’s jaw, hooking a thumb over his chin to gently guide his face into the kiss. Misha lets out a blissful moan at the new angle, and with a surge of energy Jensen suddenly yanks Misha forward by the waist, almost sending him toppling backwards and reaching out blindly for something to grip.

 

Misha’s hands fly up to grab whatever he can and what he finds…surprises and impresses him.

 

Misha’s hand lands on Jensen’s upper arm, the bicep which he could usually at least get his hand half-way around bulging thick beyond the reach of his fingers. Muscle, normally buried beneath a thick cushion of golden, freckled flesh rises to the surface, looking about ready to burst from the skin.

 

“What’s this?” Misha asks incredulously, voice pitching high in disbelief. He squeezes Jensen’s arms testingly, one hand on each.

 

“What’s it look like?” Jensen answers with a subtle smirk as he flexes.

 

Misha watches the muscle grow under his hand, compressing into a thick ball, contracting into a narrow steel band. “I mean…didn’t these used to be…smaller?”

 

“Well, I figured Dean would be bulking up with the whole not-sleeping, Mark of Cain-thing, so I just did a few extra push-ups, you know. Then, you know, just kinda kept it up for the summer. And it turns out the look suits demon-Dean too, so.” Jensen answers with a shrug, shoulder muscle rippling under his t-shirt.

 

Misha just stares, idly comparing his own arm to Jensen’s far meatier one. Misha’s in-shape – probably the best shape of his life, actually, hauling two toddlers around all day long and using yoga to wind down every evening – but his muscle mass is nowhere near that of his co-star. His body decided to sacrifice bulk in favour of flexibility, apparently, Misha had realized when he started working out, and that had never really bothered him before, though now he couldn’t help but see the impressive differences in his build and Jensen’s.

 

“Danneel must be happy about this, eh?” Misha smirks, eyes rising to meet Jensen’s.

 

Jensen shrugs sheepishly, his humbleness lasting all of two seconds before he smiles and gives an all-too enthusiastic nod.

 

“I’ll say…” Misha whistles, dragging himself back on the bench so he can sit up straight and truly appreciate the view he’s being treated to. He rolls one of Jensen’s sleeves up over his shoulder, gently caressing his upper arm, observing it in all its glory. His shoulders are broad, that’s always been one of his more remarkable features, thick traps and round shoulders spanning Misha’s entire field of vision.

 

“Fuck, Jensen, you’re huge!” Misha says in amazement and Jensen blushes frantically.

 

“Well, not as big as Jared,” he amends, ducking his head.

 

“Yeah, but that kid is an anomaly,” Misha says softly, awestruck gaze turning back and forth as he studies Jensen’s new physique. He feels like he’s getting to look at a masterpiece before it’s revealed to the public. And Jensen’s looking at him like he knows how incredible he looks and none-too-shy of the fact, for once.

 

“But you know, it’s not the size that counts,” Misha informs teasingly, “it’s what you do with it.”

 

“What’s that, little guy?” Jensen snarks back, flexing his arms and pulling them together just to show off further. His pectorals, not wanting to be left out, flex nicely, bulging out the crease of his collar.

 

“I mean there’s no point in being big if you don’t know how to use it,” Misha teases, tipping his head up and looking down his nose at Jensen in the way he knows gets him going.

 

“Oh yeah?” Jensen goads, and Misha is halfway to a retort when Jensen is hopping to his feet, yanking Misha off the bench by his legs, ducking down and wrapping his arms around Misha’s knees. He bends his knees, steeling his balance and then hefts Misha right up and over his shoulder.

 

Misha lets out a burst of laughter in shock as he falls forward, bent in half over Jensen’s shoulder, upside-down, Jensen’s arm wrapped around his legs, head somewhere around the vicinity of Jensen’s ass.

 

“You’re gonna—Jay, oh my _God_ —you’re gonna hurt your back!” Misha gasps out through fits of glorious laughter as Jensen carries him down the hall. It’s unbelievable, he’s so embarrassed, no one’s picked him up like this since he was significantly younger and the _surprise_ alone is making him giddy with excitement. “You’re gonna drop me, you bastard!”

 

“I will if you don’t quit your squirmin’,” Jensen puffs back, “stress accent” coming through strong. Misha giggles harder all while half-fearing for his life.

 

“Alright! Stop!” Misha protests, though there’s nothing serious about his attempts to escape. He knows moving too much could send them toppling into the most embarrassing 911 call ever, but he smacks his hands against Jensen’s backside anyway. Pleased with the grunt of surprise he receives in response he does it again, and a third time for good measure.

 

“Hey!” Jensen groans, and hurries the last few steps to the bed. Misha finds his vantage point quickly changed as Jensen bends his knees, flips Misha back over his shoulder and crashes to the bed. Misha bursts out laughing again as the mattress bounces his body, peering up at Jensen, who is standing at the end of the bed, looking equal parts accomplished and _exhausted_.

 

“Look at you!” Misha howls, “you’re beet-red!”

 

Jensen’s face and neck are flushed and he’s panting but grinning like he knows how hot he is. And with the adoring way Misha is looking up at him, he doesn’t even notice how much the endeavour took out of him.

 

“Aw, tired?” Misha teases, “all tuckered-out already? You _are_ getting old,” Misha’s resounding laugh is muffled by Jensen’s lips on his own as the man all but jumps on the bed and crawls up to him, meeting him in a crushing kiss.

 

“I’ll show you _tired_ ,” Jensen whispers huskily, working at devouring Misha’s lips. His lungs are still working overtime, breathing coming out through his nose in hot bursts that rush over Misha’s face as they kiss. Misha raises his arms to Jensen’s back, trying blindly to divest him of his shirt, but Jensen snatches his wrists and drives them back down into the mattress.

 

Misha stares up, pinned. Suddenly he can truly feel the full strength of Jensen’s new physique, as the man easily holds him down to the mattress. On even footing, Misha could match him, but in this position, Jensen’s full weight on top of him, he doesn’t stand a chance. Jensen could hold him down like this and do whatever he pleased – the thought sends a thrill shivering up Misha’s spine, his heart leaping into action.

 

Jensen wordlessly releases his arms and gets to work stripping Misha, relishing in every detail, unhooking each button one-by-one, sliding the two halves of his button-down open and kissing each inch of skin exposed. Misha lifts up one shoulder at a time to get out of his shirt, then raises his hips tantalizingly as Jensen pulls down his jeans and briefs, revealing Misha’s burgeoning erection and promptly ignoring it.

 

Then, he strips out of his own clothes, noting with glee the way Misha’s eyes follow his every move. It’s a bolster of confidence, and it sets Jensen off into an impromptu strip-tease, swaying his hips to the beat of a song in his head, and his display has Misha grinning and giggling, smile all-gum.

 

Jensen tips forward and his mouth goes to Misha’s collarbone, gently lapping the ridge of bone before trailing his tongue down across a plane of chest to his nipple and licking gently. He closes his lips over the dark bud, sucking hard, pulling it into his mouth in a way that has Misha gasping and tipping back his head. Misha reaches down for Jensen’s shoulder but Jensen takes his hands, leading them back to his sides and holding them while he sucks.

 

Each little grunt and sigh, hitching gasp and exhale he draws from Misha drives Jensen’s confidence higher; he moves unimpeded across Misha’s exposed body, stopping to lap at the edges of his muscles, his ribs. He halts at Misha’s navel, drawing a circle around the hole, grinning at the way Misha’s stomach rises and sinks under his mouth with each breath, before pushing his tongue inside the narrow hole and pushing up, _hard._

 

“Oh—!” Misha gasps, hips sliding up the bed as he tries to escape Jensen’s jabbing tongue. He tries to tear his hands away and Jensen grips tighter in return, muscles in his hands going tight and steady, securing Misha’s hands entirely. Jensen huffs out a laugh and Misha squirms, twisting his hips while Jensen basically tongue-fucks his navel in a way that should _not_ be so _hot_. In a sex-addled haze he reasons that it’s because he attributes the thrusting of the tongue to the feeling of having a cock thrusting into him – _Jensen’s_ cock – which causes another wave of heat to roll over him, his eyes rolling back in his head.

 

Jensen relents finally, sinking down to Misha’s hips and gently kissing each one, blowing air across the trail of saliva he makes. Misha pants, trying to relax after the unexpected assault, groaning as Jensen’s stubble-clad chin inadvertently brushes his cock. Jensen’s tongue darts out to tease his cock, making a sweep of the underside before retreating as Misha whimpers.

 

“Jensen…” Misha implores, and Jensen sighs contentedly, enjoying the way Misha says his name. It fills him up, makes him feel whole just to hear his name coming out of that mouth, the little kick of desperation and the hidden _“please”_ makes it all the more fulfilling.

 

Mercifully Jensen pulls away and releases Misha’s hands; they feel limp as the blood returns to the flesh – moving to sit up on his knees and look down adoringly at Misha, setting his hands on Misha’s open knees. He looks reluctant to leave the sight behind for even the moment it takes to crawl over and fetch the lube, but he goes, pouring the gel into his fingers tantalizingly as he returns.

 

A finger slides in, turning about, seeking the little bundle of nerves that makes Misha’s toes clench when it’s found. A second finger joins and they pull apart, spreading Misha open. In moments they withdraw and Jensen is lining his body up, and Misha’s legs are getting tired from holding them up so long, he’s getting a cramp in his back.

 

“Wait, Jensen,” Misha whispers, “as much as I’d love to stay down here and let you do all the work, I don’t think my back can take it today.” Getting old has its disadvantages, clearly. He braces himself for the teasing that will come when he reveals such a weakness, but it doesn’t ever come.

 

“I gotcha,” Jensen nods enthusiastically, rising up on his knees so that Misha can steal a glance at his fully erect cock, huge and towering and ready to utterly _dismantle_ him, and not waning in the least despite being untouched for so long. Getting older has its advantages, too. Jensen pats Misha on the hip and helps him turn over, getting him up to his hands and knees, facing the headboard.

 

“Grab on,” Jensen instructs and Misha does, reaching up for the headboard at the same time Jensen follows his own advice and takes a hold of Misha’s hips. His fingers brace around the ridges of his hips, grip like steel, as he pulls Misha gently back to perch in his lap. He settles Misha back against his cock and slides it up and down the crack of his ass, barely the hint of pressure, letting him get used to the position.

 

Then just as Misha’s about to complain about Jensen taking too long Jensen picks him up by the hips and impales him on his cock. Misha gasps and arches up, feeling Jensen’s cock slide all the way in him until his ass is flush with Jensen’s lap.

 

“H-holy shit…” Misha gasps, arms trembling as he tries to get in control, but before he can move Jensen’s raising him up by the hips and dropping him back down again, cock sliding out nearly the whole way before slamming back in.

 

It’s those arms. Jensen’s not even moving his hips, he’s just lifting Misha up with those glorious arms, oh _God,_ over and over again, deep, thick, full. Jensen’s hands slide down underneath his thighs, better to lift him right up and slam him back down with each deep, relentless thrust.

 

“Oh my _God_ …” Misha groans, arms shaking and knuckles going bone-white clenched around the headboard. The way Jensen’s pulling his thighs so wide he has no leverage, he can only move the way Jensen’s arms move him, lifting him up and pulling him back down, pumping his hips so Misha bounces off of his lap, then dragging him back down brutally against the front of his thighs.

 

“Oh God you’re so good…so _big_ …so _good_ inside me…” Misha rambles, pulling himself closer to the headboard to lean against it while Jensen pounds him from behind. It’s ridiculous, his strength, he’s practically tossing Misha between himself and the headboard, rocking him on his cock, until he suddenly pulls Misha back and holds him there, impaled brutally deep.

 

“So _deep!”_ Misha groans out unashamedly, “Jensen, Jens—oh, oh God I can’t—” he moans out a long, lilting cry, arching his back as he releases the headboard and reaches back blindly for Jensen’s shoulder, hip, _anything_ for support. Jensen leans back on his knees, and pulls Misha back with him, reaching around the front of his thighs and pulling them up nearly to his chest. Misha groans as Jensen levers him back against him so they’re back-to-chest, he can feel the breath swelling Jensen’s ribcage, his breathing in his ear.

 

This is…this is _insane;_ it makes Misha’s head swim. Misha arches up like a cat, back bowing so his head is against Jensen’s shoulder, Jensen’s lips coming to meet his ear. He feels half-way between balanced and falling, balancing carefully on Jensen’s lap with Jensen’s hands under his knees, but Jensen’s supporting him. He can feel Jensen’s thighs under his ass and his chest against his back, there’s no part of them that isn’t touching and it’s incredible, he feels supported, held, cherished, and like he’s never trusted anyone more.

 

Then Jensen starts to move, moving his hips in short pumps that keep him buried deep in Misha. His arms are tight with the effort, fingers clenched mercilessly around Misha’s thighs, holding his knees wide apart so his feet are dangling inches above the bedspread. He thrusts, pushing deeper even than he thought possible, hearing Misha’s long, breathy keening next to his ear. Misha’s rolling his head back and forth against Jensen’s shoulder, restless with being unable to move, but allowing Jensen full control over their movements. Jensen turns and presses a few breathless kisses to Misha’s ear, his forehead, where his dark hair is curling against his skin, damp with sweat.

 

Jensen starts to increase his thrusts, fighting to keep a steady rhythm, hauling Misha up with each thrust, and letting the force of gravity pull him back down. Misha starts panting, breathless, every little moaning, keening noise making Jensen’s skin prickle, drawing him closer to the edge and he knows he won’t be able to last much longer, the position, and Misha’s incredible, arcing, moaning body, pushing him to his limits.

 

Misha feels Jensen’s arms start to tremble with the strain, his whole body starting to shudder erratically, his thrusts getting wild and savage and all Misha can do is brace himself on the sheets beneath him. He tries to rock forward to support himself on his hands but Jensen hauls him back, spreading his legs wide and slamming up into him, thrusts speeding up, becoming shallow, panting frantically until he bursts inside Misha, coming deep inside him.

 

Jensen gives a few more thrusts, not wanting to leave the clenching, sucking heat of Misha’s body but having to relent quickly, carefully letting Misha’s legs down, holding his waist and helping him down to his hands and knees. Misha’s toes hit the sheets and he winces at the feeling of Jensen starting to slip out of him, clenching tightly around him.

 

“Stay inside me…” Misha instructs breathlessly and Jensen chomps down on his lip with the effort, putting one arm around Misha’s waist to hold him up and pumping his dick with the other. Misha groans and starts shuddering, tiny, shallow movements of his hips as he bounces on the mattress, Jensen pumping him hard and fast, thick fingers gentle, gripping just tight enough, and Misha cries out, throwing back his head as he comes. His muscles clench down on Jensen’s cock and he circles his hips, firmly, memorizing the feel of Jensen deep inside him, making Jensen flinch from the almost-overstimulation.

 

Jensen pulls out and all but collapses beside Misha, falling flat on his stomach, gathering just enough strength to lift his hips up a little to keep the stress of his over-sensitive cock. He pants, blowing out through pursed lips to try and get his breathing back to normal, Misha landing beside him, rolling over onto his back and panting towards the ceiling.

 

“Wow…” Misha says breathlessly, “just…” he trails off and Jensen moans his agreement, arms and legs stretched out as straight and as flat as they can go. Misha’s arms and legs hurt like no one’s business, and he can imagine Jensen’s in about the same position, given how helplessly sprawled out he looks.

 

“So uh…the whole ‘buff’ thing…” Misha pants out, “totally working for you, just so you know.”

 

“You approve?” Jensen says, unable to help the smug smile coming to his face, making his afterglow all the more bright.

 

Misha smiles back at him. “I do,” he answers, sweat sticking his hair to his forehead and muscles tingling all over. It was basically a monumentally stupid thing they just did. They are too old and too big to be attempting the sort of sex they just had. Jensen’s going to be sore tomorrow, maybe for the rest of the week, and they have jobs to get to and things to lift. But damn if it wasn’t some of the most satisfying sex he’d ever had.

 

Misha can’t wait to do it again. And by the proud and daring look Jensen’s giving him, he knows he agrees.


End file.
